


The Consequence of Chances

by xbedhead



Category: ER
Genre: Angst, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-13
Updated: 2012-07-13
Packaged: 2017-11-09 21:51:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/458838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xbedhead/pseuds/xbedhead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It was nine thirty and I'd waited outside the Center for an hour and a half for him, but he was at a bar havin' drinks with some blonde.  It...it was like I was a kid all over again.  I coulda left.  I <i>should've</i> because I knew after ten minutes that he wasn't coming, but I just..."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Consequence of Chances

**Author's Note:**

> You don't have to have seen the show to know what's going on. Pretty much everything you need to know is mentioned in here. This is my first (and only) _ER_ fic and it's unbeta'd

~*~

Half an hour before shift change, the lounge was practically empty save for Doug Ross, who was sprawled out on the ratty brown couch, reading a month-old issue of _Sports Illustrated_ , and - now - Mark Greene, who'd come in for a cup of coffee while he still had the chance.

"Bulls by five - must've been pretty exciting at the end."

"Huh?" Ross barely lifted his eyes from the page - it was an overview of the Cubs spring training schedule, which was now only two weeks away.

Cursing under his breath as he shook the empty creamer canister, Mark glanced over his shoulder. "The game - down to free throws, right? 'Least that's what I heard on the radio on the way in." 

"Yeah...well - I wouldn't know." Doug tossed the magazine aside - he already knew the pitching staff was dismal at best and was still pissed at the suits for letting Dunston go.

Mark turned and watched him for a moment, taking in the reluctant, perhaps unrealized, pout that just didn't seem right on the man and sighed. "He didn't come." 

It wasn't a question. 

Doug tilted his head, letting a 'nope' drawl out between his lips before a brief chuckle rumbled its way up his throat. "Last time I take your advice," he muttered.

If he'd known him for a few years less than he had, Mark might've been puzzled by his friend's strange reaction. But, as it were, he ignored it, deciding to humor him and ask what he was talking about.

"Shoulda waited _another_ hour for Pedes to show up and followed through with that kid, been the one to call _him_ and cancel. Maybe he wouldn'ta got the message either. Toss me one o' those?" He held up a hand for one of the apples Mark'd found in the refrigerator and fell back onto the cushions when he caught it.

"That why you're here already, then?"

"Got called in at four. Menkaevic started puking with the stomach flu in Exam One."

While Greene finished up with his coffee Doug tossed the fruit up and down a few times, shooting it like a basketball until he let both arms fall, draping them across his face. "Ahhh - some things never change, Mark," he sighed. "I dunno why I was stupid enough to believe they would."

"Well..." Mark started, a smile spreading across his face.

"Hey, don't you start on me. Momentary lapse of sanity and we'll leave it at that," he mumbled from under an elbow as the other door swung open and Carol Hathaway came strolling through in her street clothes, face pink from the cold.

"Hey, Carol."

"Mornin' guys. _Man_ , it's freezing out there," she informed needlessly, shuddering as she spoke. She was by her locker taking her scarf and hat off when she realized that all conversation had stopped since she came into the lounge. "I interrupt something?"

Doug shook his head and laughed in that self-deprecating way of his and pushed himself up from the couch. "No, no. Mark and I were just discussing the finer points of my flawed mental capabilities."

Before Carol could make a crack about anything, Lydia poked her head through the hallway door. "Dr. Ross, we got an MVA pulling up. Seventeen year old versus a fire hydrant. Trauma Two."

He frowned. "Weaver-"

"Asked for you specifically," she finished with a sarcastic smile, then rolled her eyes.

Sighing dramatically, he pushed himself up to his feet and headed toward the other door, picking up his stethoscope and ID badge off the table on his way by. "ETA?"

"One minute." 

"Seatbelt?"

"Nein."

"Cocky drivers - God love 'em."

Lydia cut through the lounge and followed along behind Doug, grabbing the now-discarded apple for herself off the table. "Mornin', Carol."

"Hey, Lyd."

Mark sat his cup of coffee down on the countertop and poured some of the steaming liquid. "Need an assist?"

"I'll yell," Doug called over his shoulder as he disappeared behind the closing door singing _'Show Me The Way To Go Home'_ with less- than-stellar enthusiasm. 

Carol took a mug from the cabinet and set it down next to the coffee pot Mark was still holding. "So what were you guys up to in here? He looked like his dog'd been shot."

"Just talkin' about the game last night," he supplied as he poured.

"Oh - I didn't even see the scores this morning. How'd it go?" She took a quick sip of her coffee, made a face, then blew on it some more. It needed more sugar and...well, it probably just needed to be new coffee.

"Chicago by five and it didn't. He didn't show."

"I thought you covered the last part of his shift for him?"

Mark set the pot back in the holder and flipped off the power switch. "No - Doug's dad didn't show."

"Aw, no," she replied with a genuine sadness. She knew he'd been halfway looking forward to going, at least to see the game, if not to spend time with his father. "How is he?"

Greene just shrugged and shook his head. He had no way of knowing most of the time, so he took an educated guess. "I think he's just aggravated at himself for getting his hopes up so high."

"Or up at all," she sighed. "Man, I hate that."

*****

"How ya doin'?"

"I don't think they're ever gonna stop ringing," he answered with a chuckle, jamming an index finger into one of his ear canals and wiggling it around for good measure. It was later in the evening, forty-five minutes 'til their shift ended, and both of them were back in the lounge looking for more coffee or anything sweet to tide them over. 

"Mother seems like she's gonna be okay. It's been a while since I've seen one that frazzled."

He smiled and looked over the package of Fig Newtons he found in the cabinet, wondering if they were worth the risk. "Yeah, well I'd be frazzled too if I put up with an three-year-old with pipes like that on a daily basis." Deciding that they were, he ripped open the cellophane and tested one out for himself. 

Iffy, but it'd do.

"Mark told me about your dad not coming to the game. I'm sorry."

He handed her two of the cookies and took a few more for himself, then put the package into the fridge. "Not your fault, Carol," he said after a long pause.

"No, but I know that you were...trying. I know that you thought that maybe this time -"

"See? Now _there_ is where the fault lies," he interrupted with a half-hearted smile that slid from his face far too easily. 

They stood in silence for a few moments, the noises of the ER flowing seamlessly together in the background until he spoke in a hushed tone. 

"I just..."

She waited, wanting nothing more than for him to talk to her. She'd seen the frustration in him throughout the day, the past few weeks, really, and hated that he'd probably brush it off with some dry-witted joke and act as if he hadn't given it a second thought. "What? What is it?"

"I'm a grown man, Carol - I'm thirty-four years old," he started suddenly, then stopped like he either didn't know what to say, or wished he hadn't spoken at all. He had his back to her then, fingers still touching the refrigerator door, cookies crumbling in his other hand. 

"I haven't seen the guy in over two decades and he's still got this...this _uncanny_ ability to...to keep me out there. I always figured that when I grew up I'd be smart enough to not let him do that to me anymore."

She gave him a sympathetic smile even though he couldn't see it and put a hand on his shoulder. She hadn't expected that kind of honesty from him. But then again, it was Doug, and in the years she'd spent with him, she knew one thing, if anything - never expect anything from him, because you most likely wouldn't get it. 

He made the barest attempts at suppressing a laugh, causing his shoulders to lurch forward with a heavy slump when he did. "Must be the...'glutton for punishment' syndrome I have," he said finally, turning halfway to face her, eyes averted, yet seeking confirmation of the already-known fact.

She could see the smile on his lips now as well as in the crinkles in the corners of his eyes and knew that the moment had passed, but couldn't stop herself from one last attempt. 

"Hey - at least you gave him a chance. You would've been beatin' yourself up for years if you'd completely brushed him off. Always wondering if you made the right decision or not. Well, you went. You let your father make his _own_ choice about whether or not he'd truly changed." 

She waited for him to say something, but he didn't. He just scratched his ear and tugged on the lobe, a nervous gesture she'd seen only a few times, but knew him well enough to recognize it as just that and read the situation perfectly.

"Doug, don't be angry at yourself for wanting this."

He started to disagree, but stopped. Even _he_ couldn't tell himself that big of a lie. 

"He was at a bar, Carol," he explained, facing her, but still not managing to look her in the eye. The cookies were slowly turning to mush in the heat of his palm and he stared at that, watching the crumbs seemingly pulsate as he spoke. "It was nine thirty and I'd waited outside the Center for an hour and a half for him, but he was at a bar havin' drinks with some blonde. It...it was like I was a kid all over again. I coulda left. I _should've_ because I knew after ten minutes that he wasn't coming, but I just..." 

His voice was lowered, like he was telling a secret he didn't want anyone, maybe not even her, to hear, but she'd listened anyway. It was one of the rare unguarded moments he sometimes allowed himself to have, making himself vulnerable to at least a small portion of the world and Carol couldn't help but appreciate the fact that he'd shown it to her. 

"Doug, sometimes-" she started, but was cut off as the door swung open.

Connie was winded as she stepped inside and told them there was a four-car pile-up on the expressway and that they were bringing five to County. Three minutes.

Since neither of them had made an attempt at the cookies, they were tossed into the nearest trashcan on the way to the sink. Hands were washed quickly, earlier conversation forgotten at the expense of the incoming trauma, and Carol snuck a glance at him sidelong, hoping her eyes were hidden by her hair, but, even if they were, she could tell he felt her watching him. Neither said anything and as she dried her hands on a paper towel, she knew he'd never speak another word to anyone about it.

**Author's Note:**

> The episode I'm revolving this around (though it takes place the day after) is 'The Healers' (2x16) and some of you who watch(ed) the show might remember it as the one where Raul - Shep's partner - dies in the fire. Well, the entire episode takes place around that fire and its victims, except for a few outside shots which revolve around Doug and his estranged father that's shown up out of the blue. I just thought they were really powerful, well-acted and so significant as far as the character of Doug Ross goes that they needed a little more exposition, because in the next episode, nothing is even mentioned. Of course, it aired like two or three weeks later and time has obviously passed. So, this is my version of what might've went on the day after.


End file.
